


The Heat Must Make Us Crazy

by starberby



Category: Benjaminutes (Fandom), Riftdale Chronicles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, M/M, Mount Riftdale, Mutual Pining, Pining, Teen Angst, Weed mention, christian is a moody emo teen, smith is a Good Boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starberby/pseuds/starberby
Summary: Christian is stuck being a pseudo-counsellor at his dad’s summer camp, and everything sucks. It’s too hot, everyone around him is a moron, and the new junior counsellor is the most annoying goody-two-shoes imaginable. Christian definitely isn’t having a good time, or enjoying said junior counsellor’s company, or anything. No way.





	The Heat Must Make Us Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> I love the camp AU so much and i love the ideas of an awful teen christian it’s just all so good i hope you enjoy!

Christian would rather be burning in hell than dealing with the heat of a Summer’s day at camp. It’s not even noon, and already he’s sweated two lakes into the pits of his hoodie. The fact that he’s wearing a hoodie doesn’t help either, or the fact that he’s paired it with matching black skinny jeans that make his legs feel like two matchsticks set ablaze. However, these are the only types of clothes he owns, and he’ll die of heat stroke before he puts on one of the camp’s colourful tie-dye t-shirts, or one of those pairs of khaki shorts all the counsellors wear. 

While the rest of the camp learns fire-making or knot-tying or some dumb survival skill, Christian walks down to the lakefront and sits on a rock in the shade, trying to feel a breeze off the water. He can’t believe it, but he wishes he were back at that Catholic boarding school Mom had sent him to. It was further up North and cooler, and the people weren’t so . . . *aggravating*.

Need an example of the pains Christian must endure? Take Dad’s two most recent hires. The older of the new counsellors only goes by Chief, and is basically the opposite of Dad in every way. This sounds good on paper—Christian would love to have someone around who isn’t always trying to relate to him, or teach him to play catch, or noogie him and call him ‘sport’ and yearn so desperately for his affection. However, Chief actually has a backbone and is a stickler when it comes to rules, which means Christian gets punished when he does something wrong. That’s supposed to be unheard of, when Christian’s with Dad. 

The first time Chief caught Christian smoking up behind the canoe storage racks, the counsellor confiscated the weed and ordered Christian to a week of dish duty. Chief glared at Christian with his muscular arms crossed, dark eyes burning like a pair of flashlights in the dark, and Christian felt the burn of something akin to shame.

As if that isn’t enough, Chief also brought along his kid. The junior counsellor goes by Smith and is a month younger than Christian, but somehow has the audacity to be a fucking sweetboy beefcake. He’s a head taller than Christian, muscled like Chief, and smiles at Christian like he’s looking at the butt of a joke. Not even the kids at school who were full of themselves and the Lord’s love smiled like Smith does. 

Christian hears children laughing in the distance. *Gross*. He squints out across the lake and wonders how long he would have to swim to make it to the other side, and how likely he would be to drown rather than escape. Well, drowning might be worth it, if it gets hot enough. Right now he wishes he could peel the hot air away from him like a sticker, to release the pressure he feels building inside of him. He’s a black hole of heat, worsening his mood to lethal, and it’s a good thing nobody’s around or else he’d go off on them so badly Chief would have him washing dishes for life. 

Christian hears a perky set of feet make their way down the gravel path, towards him. “Hey!” Smith calls out, waving when he spots the other teen. “What are you doing down here?”

Christian shrinks down into his hoodie, scowling. Smith takes no notice, instead clambering up on the rock beside him. “What’cha doing?” he repeats.

Christian grumbles, “Wishing I was dead.”

“You mean, like brooding? Chief does that a lot, too. I don’t really get it. What’s there to brood about, on a lovely day like this?” Smith throws his arms back, inhaling the fresh air, basking in the sounds of birds chirping and leaves twirling on the trees. 

“The weather, for one. It’s fucking awful.”

“You mean this lovely sun? It’s so happy!”

“And hot.”

Smith giggles. That’s right—in addition to everything else about him, he’s a fucking *giggler*. “Well anything would be hot, dressed up in that! You need to take some layers off.” Christian flips Smith the bird. “Oh, come on! Why not? You said you’re too hot.”

“Fine,” Christian spits. He struggles to shove off the hoodie, and after a few moments, Smith has to help by pulling on the sleeves. It comes off with a yank, dropping Christian hard on his butt back on the rocks, with his black t-shirt half pulled up his torso and his hair a fluffy, staticy ball. 

“Woah,” Smith whispers. 

Christian readjusts his shirt, eyeing Smith suspiciously. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you without a hoodie before. I didn’t realize it was making up most of your size—you went from tater tot to french fry!”

Christian tries to scowl but it comes out as a grimace. He rips his hoodie out of Smiths hands and makes to leave.

“Hey, wait! I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Yeah, just shut up. I don’t need to take this shit from a dumb, goody two-shoes, junior-scout, pretty-boy—“

“Pretty boy?” Smith beams.

“It—it’s an insult.”

“Insulting what?” Smith bats his eyes. “My prettiness?”

Christian’s face turns redder than it was the week he fell into the poison ivy pit. Smith gets up so they’re both standing now, a few feet apart. “Hey, it’s fine, Christian. If I’m being honest, I think you’re pretty *hot*, too.” He shoots finger guns and Christian groans.

“I’m going to push you into the lake.”

“Great idea! It’s another way to cool off.”

“With all the leeches and algae and camper piss, sure. Sounds like a great time.” Christian starts heading up back to camp, and Smith follows, jogging to catch up and walk beside him. Christian asks, “Don’t you have my dad’s ass to go kiss or something?”

“I’d prefer to spend time with you.”

Christian frowns. “Nobody prefers that. Trust me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Mom sent me off to Catholic school because she couldn’t bear having her fuckup son around, messing up her perfect life. They expelled me from school because everyone got tired of putting up with my bullshit. Now I’m here, and you could offer me or a wasp’s nest and the campers would rather spend time with the insects. The other counsellors hate me. Not even Dad wants me here; he acts all friendly but it’s only because he’s trying to change me into a ‘good’ kid, like you. He’d rather have one of the campers as his real child than me. I’m worthless.”

Smith opens and closes a mouth a few times, trying to find words. Christian nods, and looks at the ground. “That’s what I thought.”

“—I like having you around.”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“No!”

Christian stops, crossing his arms. It gives nowhere near the same affect as when Chief does it, as it only highlights how much Christian’s limbs look like bent coat hangers, but he’s too pissed to care. “Fine. Tell me one reason why.”

Smith swallows, and looks around, as if checking for witnesses. Then he grabs the edge of Christian’s hoodie, which the other teen has folded over his crossed arms. Smith plays with the cuff of the sleeve. “I like this. How you dress the way you want, even when the weather’s bad. How you say the things you feel, even when it doesn’t sound nice. You’re not too busy trying to make others happy. You stay you, whether or not it’s convenient.” He looks up at the other teen and gives the smallest smile, a closed-mouth curve, less like a beaming sun and more like a sliver of a waxing moon. Christian gulps and steps back, pulling his hoodie out of Smith’s grasp. 

“Yeah. Well. You should get back to the campers. They’re probably looking for you by now.” He stalks off, walking in quick, long strides, scared to turn around. 

Stupid summer camp. Even with his hoodie off, it seems the heat gets to him. It’s the only logical explanation for the way his head feels light, and how his stomach is churning, and how he can’t keep down the smile that crawls onto his face. 

\---

THAT NIGHT:

Smith groans. He’s been trying to sleep for forever, now, but even with the sun down, everything is too hot! He’s wearing nothing but pyjama shorts and an oversized camp shirt, laying on top of the sleeping bag, but he can’t get comfortable. He decides to slink out of the counsellor’s cabin, to get fresh air. That ought to help!

He slips his sneakers on over bare feet and treks quietly down to the lakeside, to listen to the water against the rocks. The sun is mostly set but a sliver of light lays against the horizon, seemingly propping up the sky and preventing collapse. It’s beautiful. 

He’s there for a few seconds, basking in the sounds of bats in the trees, breathing in the breeze, when there’s movement a bit to the right of him. “Ah!” he shouts, recoiling, only to see that it’s a familiar emo pseudo-counsellor. “Christian! What are you doing out here? Why are you still in your day clothes?”

“And a hello to you, too.” Christian shrugs, walking closer. “I’m not great at sleeping. Sometimes I come out here to watch the sunset, just for something to do.”

“Oh.”

They both watch the lake in silence. Then Christian asks, “Why are you up, and in your pyjamas?”

“Can’t sleep. I guess you were right, it’s too hot!” 

Christian bites his lip. “You want me to help?”

“Sure. Can you control the weather?”

“Come on.” He leads Smith back to the main camp building, which includes the kitchen and cafeteria. He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. “Don’t tell anyone I have these, okay?” He unlocks the door and the two boys head into the kitchen. 

Christian opens up the industrial freezer and pulls out an ice cube tray. “Get some ziplocks from the pantry over there,” he tells Smith. Soon enough, the both of them are sitting on the kitchen counter together, bags of ice cubes in their laps. Smith hugs his to his chest, swinging his legs and tapping his heels against the cupboard doors. 

“This is great. I’ve never been in the kitchen at night before, it feels so weird.”

“Yeah, it’s cool. We just need to make sure we refill the trays with water before we leave. Hey,” Christian asks. “What’s your favourite flavour?” 

“Um...blue.”

“Not a fucking flavour, but I get what you mean.” He digs into the freezer depths and pulls out two popsicles, one blue and one purple. He hands Smith his and the junior counsellor squeals with excitement. 

“This is great, Christian! You’re the best!”

Christian shrugs, blushing. They eat their treats in silence for a few moments. Christian watches Smith suck his popsicle but looks away once he gets caught. Smith studies the embarrassed boy closely.

“Do you really believe what you said earlier today, about your dad not wanting you around?”

“You’ve met him. You know he has all the kids call him ‘Dad’. He tries to fulfil his parenting urges through them because I didn’t turn out right.”

“He likes taking care of people, is all. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

“If he loved me, he would have fought with Mom to keep me from going to boarding school. He would have tried to help before things got so bad that I was expelled. Shit!” Christian accidentally drips melted popsicle on his shirt, then desperately tries to lick the runoff from the popsicle before more can spill off. Once the crisis is fixed, he says apathetically, “You have a better relationship with your dad and you don’t even call him your dad.”

“I wouldn’t say Chief is my dad, though. He adopted me when I was pretty old already, and using that word after going so long without it just feels weird. I don’t know. He’s great, and I love him, but he’s pretty busy with his work. Whatever job that turns out to be. Becoming a counsellor was the only way I made sure I’d see him all Summer.” As soon as Smith admits this, he feels a rush of guilt. “I should get back to bed. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”

“Smith, wait.”

The boys both hop off the counter, and Christian fills a large cup with water, then grabs a roll of paper towel. He hands them to Smith, to take in addition to the ice. “Keep the paper towel damp, and lay it on your forehead and stomach. It helps.”

“Thanks. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?”

“I have nowhere else to fucking go.”

Smith nods, and leaves. Christian cleans up the kitchen half-assedly, replacing the ice trays and heading out to finally go to bed. He’s in a little camper Dad brought out “so his kiddo could have some privacy”, trying to make it up to Christian and failing. Still, Christian’s glad for it now, as he doesn’t think he could handle trying to sleep so near Smith. Laying in the dark close to the other boy, wondering what he could be thinking . . . . 

Even now, as Christian lays down in his sleeping bag, his hands are sticky with popsicle juice. Sweet and vibrant, he can’t help but be reminded of Smith. 

He’s glad, in a way, that he’s stuck here. Otherwise, he never would have met the other boy. He wouldn’t admit it, but he thinks what Smith said earlier is the first time Christian’s been complimented and he really believed it.

Unbeknownst to Christian, however, Smith lies awake in the counsellor cabin, head bursting with so many lilac thoughts about the campowner’s son; a plethora of loving remarks he wishes he had the opportunity to say.

\---


End file.
